


Be Careful With the Things We Love

by remember-gadreel (kams_log)



Series: #SundayGadreel [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Ezekiel | Gadreel, Fluff, Human Ezekiel | Gadreel, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SundayGadreel, Vague Non-Con Elements, Werewolves, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/remember-gadreel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He just had to make it to the clearing. It was there that Sam and Gadreel would take their shots and pierce this sucker in the chest.</p><p>He glanced back once more when he heard the sound of bark snapping in half. His eyes widened when he spotted the werewolf, glaring and snarling as it bit and slashed through any branch in it’s way.</p><p>It was damn lucky it had claws, because otherwise Dean wouldn’t have hesitated to jump it and just ram a silver blade through it’s heart. But that wasn’t an option. The best they could do was long range. It was all Dean’s fault that he accidentally caught it’s attention before they were ready. Stupid branch in the pathway. He really hadn’t meant to break it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Careful With the Things We Love

**Author's Note:**

> For the #SundayGadreel challenge on tumblr: "I didn't mean to break it."
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

Dean scrambled through the brush, ducking and weaving fallen tree limbs and sharp branches still hanging overhead.

The sky was dark above him. Not a single star was able to shine through the overhanging clouds that blanketed the sky, even darkening the moon which had caused this hunt in the first place.

Werewolf. And it was the third damn one of the year too. Sam said they were branching out, making new members. Dean didn’t really care about that. He cared about stopping them. Too many lives had been taken and ruined already. He wasn’t about to let another one go tonight.

He, Sam, and Gadreel had split up when they arrived at the park the werewolves had been hunting in. They’d already staked out the house and had taken out the two that were still home. The third was out hunting, and now, it was about to become the hunted.

Well, that was the plan anyway. As soon as Dean could get ahead of it enough for Sam and Gadreel to take the damn thing out.

He heard a roar behind him and glanced back to see glowing red eyes and a human face, sharp canine teeth bared in the darkness. Dean huffed out a breath and ran faster.

He just had to make it to the clearing. It was there that Sam and Gadreel would take their shots and pierce this sucker in the chest.

He glanced back once more when he heard the sound of bark snapping in half. His eyes widened when he spotted the werewolf, glaring and snarling as it bit and slashed through any branch in it’s way.

It was damn lucky it had claws, because otherwise Dean wouldn’t have hesitated to jump it and just ram a silver blade through it’s heart. But that wasn’t an option. The best they could do was long range. It was all Dean’s fault that he accidentally caught it’s attention before they were ready. _Stupid branch in the pathway._ He really hadn’t meant to break it.

There were two turns left. He was almost home free.

Dean gasped in lung fulls of air, jumping over extended roots and slippery patches of leaves. He could hear the werewolf getting closer, hotter on his heels. He felt something touch the back of his jacket and he yelped, forcing every muscle in his body to push faster and farther.

He glanced back anxiously, then hesitated as his eyes widened. There was nothing behind him. The werewolf was gone.

_What?_

He looked back forward, ready to get back to his brother and partner, when he slammed his feet to a halt and screamed.

The werewolf swung a broken log at his head, and Dean saw stars as it collided with his temple.

His body hit the ground, hard, and he immediately reached down for his blade. But his vision was blurry, and he couldn’t tell the difference between up and down in the darkness. His fingers slid through a mess of leaves before a boot slammed down on his wrist, effectively crunching it with a loud snap and pop.

Dean screamed and lashed out with his free fist, colliding his knuckles into the monster’s ankle.

It cursed and kicked him in the face. The effect was instantaneous, and Dean gasped as he tried to roll away from the attack. But the werewolf’s foot was unmoving, and Dean struggled to kick at it and get away.

“ _Sam--!_ ” He started to scream, but another kick silenced him sharply. He gasped and curled tight around his body, glaring through his hand at the monster who was leering down at him in the dark.

He felt blood dripping from his forehead, and he could only imagine what his wrist was going to look like in the morning. This was of course, assuming he’d still be alive in the morning.

“I smell your friends,” the werewolf growled, a guy once known as Darrell Blake. He was a broker. Now he was a biter.

Dean huffed at the thought, stared up at the monster in front of him.

“Yeah?” Dean spit, unable to tell if it was dark because of the heavy night around him or if it was blood. “Well, they’re gonna’ kill you.”

The werewolf laughed. It was bitter and cold. The monster leaned down over his body and grabbed Dean’s face, tugging him up so he could better see his killer’s face in the darkness.

Dean struggled to get away, but the monster’s hold was firm. Dean wasn’t getting away no matter how hard he tried. He expected bruises to start forming on his face soon.

“They won’t kill me if I have you.”

The monster sniffed at him, moving his nose down along Dean’s jaw to his throat. Dean recoiled, but the monster only pulled him closer.

“Maybe I should turn you...” The werewolf hummed. “Would they kill you?”

Dean hesitated, unable to respond.

Sam wouldn’t. Not in a million years. Gadreel wouldn’t either. But the ex-angel would not be able to cure him if he was turned. He was only human now. The fall had taken too much from him, especially in his last ditch effort to get Castiel to Metatron in heaven.

He was still a valuable hunter, and an excellent warrior with skills and knowledge Dean and Sam had never seen.

But would Gadreel be able to do it? He had to, if it came down to it. Dean had experience in being turned into things he didn’t like.

He’d really rather be dead than a monster.

Yet, he felt no relief at the idea of being killed. As much as he liked to believe they would, Dean knew for a fact the two would never kill him. Ever.

Dean felt sick as the werewolf continued to nose at him, as if planning where to place the final bite.

That was when he heard it. It was subtle, just a rustle in the leaves like wind stirring. The werewolf on top of him didn’t seem to notice or care, but Dean knew better. As subtle as the movement was, Dean would recognize Gadreel’s presence anywhere.

He felt teeth nick his skin, and then Dean panicked. He kicked out roughly, screaming and making sure Gadreel would continue unnoticed as the werewolf sputtered at the blows and struck Dean back, cutting a sharp gash in his cheek before raking a claw down his chest.

Dean didn’t stop. He continued to lash out blindly, ignoring the roaring pain in his blood and body.

He saw a flash of teeth rush towards his face, and Dean had a blinding moment of horror before the weight from his body was suddenly gone, replaced instead with a gust of cold night air and stinging skin.

He could hear the sound of fighting to his left. Dean struggled to roll over, eyes widening when he saw Gadreel’s body on top of the werewolf’s, Dean’s own silver blade high over the monster’s body before it descended with a shout.

The werewolf spasmed, screamed, then suddenly went still and silent. Dean didn’t have to ask if it was dead.

He heard snaps of branches and leaves as heavy footsteps ran toward them. Sam.

“Damnit Gadreel!” Sam swore, “We were trying to avoid a confrontation!”

“If I didn’t move immediately your brother would be transforming into one of them.” Gadreel’s voice was soft, as it often was. But even Dean didn’t miss the snap in his tone, the increased anxiety and agitation.

Dean guessed Sam must have nodded his thanks, because Gadreel’s face softened as he turned to look at Dean, eyes glowing with worry in the dark.

“Dean?” He heard Sam speak, suddenly much closer than he’d been before.

He shuddered as he felt a frigid hand touch his shoulder, and it was all he could do from pulling away before Sam had him on his back again, eyes showering him for injuries.

“Damn...”

Yeah, Dean figured it had to be bad.

“Can you feel your wrist?” Gadreel asked softly, also suddenly close and present. Dean sighed when his hand brushed against his arm, carefully mindful of the dark bruising on his skin.

That was the thing with Gadreel, Dean thought. He was careful, just like Sam was. But there had to be some leftover grace in him somewhere, because while Sam’s hands were clammy and practically frostbitten, Gadreel’s fingers were warm and fiery, lighting Dean’s skin like marshmallows over a smokey fire pit.

It felt soft and bright all at once as Gadreel’s hands continually moved upward, also cataloging injuries and what needed to be tended to immediately.

“His chest,” Gadreel spoke calmly as he pulled off his leather jacket, then hoodie, and placed the inner jacket over Dean’s shredded shirt and bloody skin. Gadreel then helped Sam sit him upright before setting his last jacket over Dean’s shoulders.

He shuddered in gratitude, reaching out his uninjured hand to grasp Gadreel’s shoulder in thanks. He couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn he saw Gadreel’s small smile of reassurance.

“We need to get you back to the motel Dean,” Sam was saying. “Stitch you up and get the hell out of here before people ask questions.”

Dean thought it would be fair to mention that the townspeople had done nothing but ask questions since they arrived. But as he was carefully stood up, he decided it wasn’t worth it.

He gasped as his wounds stretched with his muscles, only steadied by Gadreel and Sam’s hands on his back and shoulders.

“Okay, one step at a time Dean,” Sam continued. “Think you can walk?”

Dean nodded simply and rubbed at his neck. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been turned. He couldn’t believe that his injuries hadn’t been worse.

As they made their way out of the park, he could feel Gadreel’s weighted gaze on him, watching for any flicker of pain or fatigue before they finally made it back to the Impala.

Sam allowed Gadreel to steer Dean into the backseat, choosing not to comment as Gadreel also climbed in the back to allow Dean a shoulder to rest on as his brother drove.

Dean was grateful for the warmth and contact, even if he usually would have spit a thousand insults and cheesy jokes by now.

His injuries hurt like a bitch. Nothing he’d die from, he was sure. But damn, he was ready to sleep for the rest of the week. Preferably with the ex-angel heater sitting right next to him.

Gadreel’s fingers continued to drift across his skin, raising goosebumps as they traveled over his shoulder and up his neck, soon carding themselves at the base of his head and knotting themselves in his hair.

Dean hummed and leaned into the touch, not at all caring for the way Sam raised his eyebrow at them in the rearview mirror.

It wasn’t like it was surprising. Sam had already walked in on them making out twice in the kitchen. They were lucky that he hadn’t caught them in the war room yet, but things were still... new.

It wasn’t like Gadreel had ever been in a relationship. And Dean knew next to nothing about dating angels.

Unfortunately, it was a learning experience for all three of them. But Dean was really learning to love the little displays of affection that Gadreel gave him, especially in moments like these.

“I’m sorry we could not get to you sooner,” Gadreel said softly next to Dean’s ear.

Dean only hummed and nodded against Gadreel’s shoulder.

“Wasn’t your fault, or Sam’s,” Dean replied with a yawn. “If I hadn’t broken that damn branch we probably could’ve gotten the drop on the thing.”

“That is no way to think,” Gadreel said firmly. “Accidents happen no matter how much we prepare. That is simply the way of life.”

“Don’t get philosophical on me, angel.”

“Fine,” Gadreel sighed, rolling his eyes. But Dean could see the quirk of his lips in the streetlights outside the window. It cast shadows over the ex-angel’s face, making him look unearthly, maybe even holy.

Dean didn’t believe in that kind of thing. But sometimes, he imagined if holiness was real, it might be likened to Gadreel himself.

“But you are alright?” Gadreel asked softly, again.

Dean nodded and leaned in when Gadreel’s hold tightened around his shoulders.

“Better now,” he replied honestly. He tested his wrist, then winced at the resulting flare of pain. “Wrist could use some work.”

Gadreel lifted it in his palm, and Dean stared at the way Gadreel examined it, fingers brushing over the sore spots and rapidly darkening bruises.

Then, he leaned down and kissed it. The touch didn’t hurt, and Dean’s eyes widened in surprise at the softness of it all. Gadreel wasn’t the most romantic kind of guy. But damn if he didn’t have his moments.

“It will be better soon,” Gadreel replied, then leaned over and kissed the corner of Dean’s lips. “They say kisses make you feel better.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head in mock annoyance.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean replied with a yawn, not fighting as Gadreel pulled him close again. “Whatever you say.”

**Author's Note:**

> me: fallingforgadreel.tumblr.com


End file.
